DANIEL’s POV
For a long time, there was only the sound of our breathing. Ethan’s body was still warm around me, still trembling, still marked with the things I did to him. The lamp beside the bed painted his skin in soft gold, but everything in my chest felt black and red—hunger, guilt, and disbelief.
“I don’t want to,” he whispered. Not like a child. Like a man making a vow.
I should’ve rolled off him. I should’ve left the room, washed myself clean, tried to salvage the ruins of my friendship with his mother. Instead, I stayed there, inside him, my palms flat against the sheets that weren’t mine, staring at the boy I should never have touched.
The way he looked riding me—his head thrown back, sweat glistening on his throat, his c**k slapping against his stomach as he moaned my name—h
